A failed date led to a lasting friendship

This autumn marks the third anniversary of my friendship with Steven. We first connected on Bumble in October 2023, while I was visiting his home town of Atlanta for a wedding. After meeting for dinner in the city centre, we bonded over our shared appreciation for the British comedy show Stath Lets Flats, and it felt like a done deal.

However, Steven is not my partner; he is my friend. I would consider him one of my closest, despite the fact that we live 4,000 miles apart. Over the past three years, we have holidayed together, visited each other’s homes, and met one another’s family and friends. I have even shared a meal with his ex-wife, whom I now count as a friend, and although Steven and I share the hallmarks of a perfect relationship, we simply do not fancy each other.

During our date at a busy Mexican restaurant, we enjoyed an easy conversation. He was warm, intelligent, funny and chivalrous, even offering to drive me back to my accommodation after he discovered, with incredulity, that I had walked there, which he noted was "not the done thing in Atlanta apparently." I was doe-eyed and projected all my dreams and hopes onto him, believing he was the perfect man. Looking back, I think this was because he asked me questions, something I had not encountered much on previous dates, leading me to ignore the nagging sense that something was missing romantically.

We spent more time together during my four days in Atlanta and got on famously. While queuing for coffee at a local cafe, I placed my hand on his back to test the chemistry between us. He reciprocated, but it felt wrong and awkward.

When I left the city, we promised to keep in touch, although I privately suspected our communication would taper off. After a month of breezy phone chats, we entered a new relationship zone where any initial romantic flickers were burning out into embers of friendship. I could not understand this strange connection until one call made it clear.

Steven blithely spoke about another date he had been on, and my immediate internal response was acute disappointment. However, relief soon washed over me as I realised that just because I had found someone who liked Stath Lets Flats, it did not mean we were meant to be together. A switch went off, allowing me to relax, as the transition from romantic prospects to firm friends did not need to be discussed explicitly.

Dating apps often get a bad rap and the sense of doom surrounding digital dating is now ubiquitous. Yet, my experience with Steven made me wonder if I had been looking at the apps all wrong, closing myself off to other meaningful connections like the platonic kind that could help create the openness required to meet a partner.

If someone had told me in October 2023 that my next date would result in a long-term, long-distance friendship, I would have cancelled it, reasoning, “I’m not interested in that.” By doing so, I would have missed out on one of the greatest friendships of my life. It made me realise I had been approaching modern dating with a vice-like attachment to outcomes, losing the fun and the lightness of the experience.

I was forced to acknowledge a difficult truth: I might never “meet someone.” Although the idea devastated me at first as I grieved for an imagined life, I eventually embraced a cathartic sensation of freedom and acceptance.

I continued dating with the understanding that if there was no romantic connection, something else might emerge, or perhaps it would not, but it did not matter. I found it interesting to learn about and chat to new people. I still wanted a romantic relationship, but I also liked the idea that I could live out my days enjoying the company of my friends.

Today, Steven and I are close mates, unaffected by distance. We see each other twice a year, while the rest of the time we rely on voice notes, texts and phone calls. In a plot twist, I am currently in a relationship with someone I met on an app. I am still trying to keep those desired outcomes at bay, and I do not know if it was aided by the change Steven’s friendship sparked.

I do know that I mentally friend-zoned this person initially, but I ended up enjoying their company so much that a second and third date followed, until I realised I did not want to stop being in their company, and not just as their friend. Luckily, they felt the same.

While I did not find love in Atlanta, I gained a friend for life in Steven and a much-needed shift in perspective: dating apps are not the devil. The devil was my insistence that they do anything more than facilitate strangers meeting.